As we head into the final week and the kids’ anticipation grows, let’s step back and talk about the worst Christmas presents we’ve ever received. We all have senile and/or cheapskate relatives. Read these hilarious stories from Reddit and then share your story below!

I got a used gift card once with only $3.75 left on it.

When I was seven for Christmas my grandmother bought my cousin (the same age as me) a PS2. I got a Shrek lunchbox.

My grandmother favored my older sister because my parents favored my brother (they were twins). She’d give her toys and specifically say my brother and I couldn’t play with them. Even though we were supposedly poor, my parents managed to buy an NES, SNES and a Playstation for my brother. I got a Barbie. I didn’t even like them. My grandmother’s logic was still stupid though: “They favor one of their three kids? I better favor one of the others! But forget that third one.”

A few years ago my parents got both my sisters Macbooks. I got $100 cash.
Not myself, but a good friend of mine was unemployed around the holidays one year while living with his parents. He received a large gift wrapped box from his parents that contained nothing but a stack of job applications.

When I was 7 I unwrapped the biggest gift first and saw a Dustbuster box. Thinking my present was inside the box I opened it to find a Dustbuster. My parents got it for me so I could vacuum the stairs easier. Thanks guys.

When I was fifteen we were broke as a joke. My crazy mother gave my sister a new robe; I got a mason jar filled with sugar with a hand written note about how sweet I was. Two days the later I came home to find that the sugar was gone; she used it to make some cookies.

I got a handheld vacuum cleaner for Christmas when I was 16. Two years later when I was moving out for university my mother wouldn’t let me take it. It was the gift that kept on sucking.
I had a great-aunt who came to Christmas every year with her care-taker. When the care-taker unexpectedly died, I received a VHS copy of his funeral (I was 7).
In the 3rd grade we did class Secret Santas. Obviously everyone’s parents bought the gifts so people were getting awesome snow globes, big boxes of candy, and just cool, worthless stuff my 8 year old self was infatuated with. When it got to my turn, my Santa gave me a used pencil, told me she forgot about it and asked me not to tell the teacher. I was a cool kid, so I sucked it up and acted like it was the best pencil I had seen. The worst part was my Santa got a sweet gift certificate to this little toy shop in my town that sold Calico Critters. I was pretty crappy after that. I cried like a baby that night.

For my 16th birthday, I received a Bible and a Weed Whacker.

When I was about 6 years old I got a belt, a piggy bank, and a brush from my relatives for Christmas. I was grateful for them, but I still ended up crying because I was just a little kid. My parents told me to cheer because maybe Santa would bring me something great. My dad, being the jerk that he was video taped the whole thing, including the next day when I was completely surprised when I opened my gift from Santa and it was a SNES.
He insists on watching the video every Christmas.

In retrospect, this was probably both the worst and best gift that I could have received, because it spawned a tradition that is still practiced to this day. See, my mother’s family isn’t especially wealthy, and most of their Christmas presents come from bargain bins and Dollar Stores. There’s a tongue-in-cheek element to it all, as though the holiday itself is a chance to give everyone gag gifts, and we all have a lot of fun with it. One predictable stocking stuffer is a bad movie of some kind, and several years ago, I received a copy of “The Dancing Pirate.”
Now, this was back before we had cemented Christmas as a lighthearted holiday of perpetual jest, so I was feeling a little bit disappointed. Still, I held onto the movie, and the following year… I regifted it back to them. The year after that, my brother received an enormous box full of packing peanuts… and that goddamned Dancing Pirate DVD.
The movie has changed hands a dozen or so times throughout the years, until two years ago when my stepsister’s husband took it home and actually watched it. This, everyone thought, meant that the curse had finally been broken… but they were wrong. I scoured the Internet for Dancing Pirate paraphernalia, and made sure that everyone in my family got either a copy of the film, a poster, or a playbill.

My grandpa is known for his interesting gifts. Last year, he gave us all fire extinguishers. The year before he gave bright orange rape whistles, which were given even to the men.

A baby doll that screamed “I don’t wanna lay an egg!” when squeezed. From great aunt, of course.

A self help book for women with daddy issues from a guy I was dating.

A set of mustards in sample sizes…I think dad forgot about me.

The worst birthday package I received (from my well-to-do aunt) contained:
– Three $0.75 notepads (they were on sale at the Dollar Store)
– A small tin of stale popcorn (from a 6-month-old gift basket she’d received)
– A half-broken clipboard (taken from her son’s room)
– A mostly used sketch book (also taken from her son’s room). While a good 65% of the pages had already been ripped out, she somehow missed the 5-7 pages that contained very detailed drawings of women in extreme BDSM bondage gear and poses.
I was turning 7 that year. My mother nearly turned felon that day.

So my mother has a history of getting the family bad gifts. The best worst gift I ever got was one year she got me a hairdryer. I had ridiculously short hair at the time and didn’t really have a use for it. So naturally I stuck it under my bed. The next year rolls around and I open up another gift from her and low and behold it’s another hairdryer. In fact, it looks exactly the same as the last hairdryer she gave me. I return to my room to put the hairdryer under my bed. I pull up the sheets, and find that the hairdryer from last year was gone.

One December, my sister and I were in Macy’s and she pointed out a display of these hideous slippers. They were plush and they looked like big fat feet in flip-flops and painted toenails. They were the ugliest, most misguided things I had ever seen. Fast forward a week later, to Christmas Eve. My aunt hands around gift bags to all the nieces. She had bought those ugly slippers for me, my sister, and each of our female cousins. “Aren’t they adorable?” she said. “I just KNEW everyone would LOVE them!”

When I was a child, my great aunt spoiled me. One time, before she went on a holiday, she asked me what I wanted her to bring me back. No hesitation – “a Transformer!” A couple weeks later, she returns, and I’m so excited. She’s talking to my mam and my grandmother while unpacking her suitcases and I’m almost freaking out. She’s sees this and smiles, reaches into her case and pulls out a brown paper bag with something square in it. Out of the brown bag comes a plain white box. Now I’m confused — this thing should be all kinds of colorful. I open the box and inside is a little black box with a cable coming out of one end. An AC/DC transformer. Imagine how excited I had just been. Now imagine that turning in an instant to inconsolable sadness. That was a dark day for my younger self. I asked for a Transformer, got a transformer.

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